As Innumerable as the Stars in the Skies
by c1araoswa1d
Summary: (Tumblr Prompt) Just rewatched Day of the Doctor, and the scene where they're all talking about how many children there were on gallifrey really stuck with me. It got me thinking 11 was lying when he said he'd moved on, so he just ticks them off, mumbles numbers to himself, and if clara just finds him counting the children one day and he's just crying.


okay so i just rewatched the 50th anniversary episode, and the scene where 11 and 10 and X were all talking about how many children there were on gallifrey really stuck with me. and it got me thinking that 11 was lying when he said he'd moved on (because he would never forget that number of children) and i wondered if he does actually lose count sometimes, so he just ticks them off, mumbles numbers to himself, and if clara just finds him counting the children one day and he's just crying.

Gonna make this post-Day of the Doctor, and also throw in something cute, because I need cute right now.

 **Title: As Innumerable as the Stars in the Skies**

Clara catches him out of bed sometimes, roaming the halls of the Tardis with too much on his mind, and she tries to dismiss it – he's an old Time Lord, doesn't need as much sleep as she does – knows it would be selfish of her to think he would lay by her side six to eight hours a night like a regular old bloke. But sometimes she can feel his tension in an odd way now. The air, she thinks as she lets her legs hang over the side of the bed, feels thicker and her breathing quickens and she wonders if it's a side effect of being with him intimately.

Or simply something else...

"Doctor?"

She doesn't call too loudly, afraid to alarm him, but she stands and pulls a robe from the back of a chair, tying it over her stomach and walking through the doors, not surprised that the Tardis is lighting her way. Leading Clara to him where he stands inside of a nursery and looks to the odd bassinet sitting there, mumbling under his breath as he occasionally taps at a star.

It's not English, she knows, and since it's not translating, she knows it must Gallifreyan and the thought worries her because he rarely speaks it. He'd promised to teach her one day, and she knows that day is soon approaching, knows because he's excitedly come to kiss her forehead and poke her nose and explain, " _It'll be like our secret family recipe, Clara_."

The memory makes her smile now, even as she rolls her shoulders to try and ease the muscles there, approaching him and quietly calling out, "Doctor?"

He turns and she stops, seeing the tears that have already carved paths over his cheeks. She shakes her head, eyes wide, and moves towards him swiftly, reaching to take his already outstretched hand as he bows his head and admits honestly, "Sorry, I was thinking about the children."

Clara smiles, and then she frowns, understanding, because he's always thinking about them, even before the three Doctors and the painting and the Moment. Clara has caught him muttering under his breath a thousand times and every so often she hears a familiar phrase and she knows it's a number. He'd tried to teach he numbers once, before he'd been distracted by cake. So she knows when she hears one here or there, in the dead of night when he thinks she can't hear, that he's not merely counting the stars in the sky, but the lives he'd extinguished.

 _The children_ … she knew, the ones he used to think perished because of him.

"The ones on Gallifrey." She takes his hand between hers firmly and reminds him, "Doctor, you saved those children – they're all _safe_."

Looking to her again, he offers a weak smile and he nods, then shakes his bangs roughly before explaining, "I've spent hundreds of years thinking I was responsible for so many deaths, hundreds of years counting those lives, it's hard to remember sometimes what happened just a few months ago." Body twisting towards her, he nods, "I'm sorry I woke you, I know you need your rest."

On a sigh, she simply watches him, refusing to leave his side because she'd promised she wouldn't, not even in the worst of times, and he grins then, eyes closing before he pulls her into a hug, exhaling against the top of her head warmly. Clara wraps her arms around him and she can feel the almost imperceptible tremble of his body, listens to the erratic pounding of his hearts, and she pinches her lips together, eyes closing as she asks, "Why are you still counting the children then, Doctor, if you know they're safe?"

He laughs, but it's pained and she feels her eyes water, feeling his sorrow, knowing it would be a while before he could dismiss the memories that have stayed with him so long. She knew it would be hard for him to dismiss that feeling, especially now. Clara waits as his hands rub gently at her back, soothing her to sooth himself, and then he steps back and takes her hands, leading her towards a rocking chair where he sits and holds the seat steady so she can press between his thighs to sit atop his right, body tilted into him as he begins a simple swaying motion.

"Gallifrey was my home and I made the decision – _the terrible decision_ – to destroy it once, knowing then exactly how many men, women, and children I would be killing in the process. It was for the greater good, I'd convinced myself." The Doctor glances to her and tells her, "Earth is my home too, and the thought that one day I could make a decision so terrible ever again..." he trails as she smiles and reaches for his left hand, bringing it to her lips to kiss before she settles it on her stomach.

Clara watches his brow drop slightly as he considers it, looking to his fingers splayed over the swollen flesh hidden underneath her robe and nightie. She leans her head into his shoulder and guides his hand towards a spot where a small foot or fist is thumping, and she tells him lightly, "They feel the sadness of their father, and when you count now, they count, tapping against me alongside that number in your head the best they can."

His jaw clenches against her forehead as the Doctor undoes her robe and just two buttons of her night gown, slipping his hand through to press skin to skin before he sighs. "I count _them_ too. Too many times to tell you, Clara, I always make sure our two babies are safely nestled within you, growing daily, and I'll count them among both my peoples and yours for their entire lives – whether it's ninety years or nine hundred."

"And you'll always make the right decisions for them," Clara assures. "Every day you love them more and more – they can feel it because I can feel it – and they grow strong in that, Doctor." She laughs along with him at a hard kick just above her belly button. "In a few months you'll be able to hold them and tell them all about the children of Gallifrey and how they're safely tucked away in a pocket of time just like they'd been for nine months in their mother, just waiting for the right time to come into the universe."

He smiles, kissing her head and whispering, "I might be too busy counting tiny fingers and toes."

Clara sits up and she presses her lips to his and when she pulls back, she stands, tugging at his hands until he stands in front of her and moves with her back to their bedroom aboard the Tardis, discarding robes to snuggle back into bed. His arm rounds her and she can feel he's leaned up on his elbow, looking down at her in the darkness. She worries his mind is still on memories that should have faded away, but then his hand rounds her belly again and he lets out a breath of a chuckle.

"Two babies, Clara. We're going to have our hands full for quite a while."

Shifting closer, the Doctor molds himself to her body as he shifts his palm over her, resting it comfortably just underneath her stomach as she tells him, "Two more beautiful souls, Doctor, here because of you."

He kisses her neck and breaths, "Us, Clara – they're all here because of the both of us." He goes silent a moment, and then allows, "I don't know if I'll ever stop counting them; I don't know if I'll ever stop reminding myself about what could have been – about what used to be."

Reaching to hold his hand steady, Clara nods and she smiles, feeling the gentle double kick as he huffs a laugh in her ear, and she responds, "If you count to remind yourself, then you start here with your children. Remember that they are safe and loved, just like those on Gallifrey, and one day we'll take them there."

"One day," he sighs, thumb rubbing gently against her belly as he nestles into her back, his head finally lying on the pillow behind her.

Clara intertwines her fingers with the Doctor's and listens to his humming, knows it's a lullaby he used to sing to his children and grandchildren, and it warms her entirely to know he's singing it now to their children. And she knows they can hear him just as they can feel him. Clara closes her eyes, inhaling the calm air around her, and she feels her babies moving about peacefully now, serene in their parent's soothing presence.


End file.
